Slayer
by CooperLeigh
Summary: There are legends that warn of those who slay a dragon. They warn to never let the blood touch you and to never stop the heart with one's own hand. Those who do are forever cursed and changed along with all of their line. It was not Thorin Oakenshield but Bard the Bowman who slayed Smaug the Defiler. And now as his veins glow and his blood burns he will have to face what lies ahead
1. Chapter 1

_There was legends of the far north that warn of dragons. They warn of when slaying a dragon that the heart must be pierced and the blood not to be touched. Only shot from a great distance and with great power can a dragon be felled. But should a man do it himself with the blood running down his hands and the heart stop it beating by his doing he will become something else. Something that will curse and change himself and his line forever more. The legends do not say what. But there was some old whispers of creatures called Dragonkin. _

As the black arrow was loosed from the wind lance the Beast moved and inch and it was then Bard knew that unless he moved quickly the beast would never die. Yes the arrow did pierce his chest but Bard knew it would not be hard enough to kill it.

The beast roared in agony and dipped his wing causing the tower to slip. Diving into the water Bard swam for the shelter of the buildings as he saw the dragon fall into the water. As quickly as he could Bard climbed onto the rickety walkway and began to run and as soon as he reached the edge of the town he climbed into the boat and began to row for his life.

Much to his horror he saw the boats on the opposite side of the lake and looked on the shores as the beast began to slowly used its wings to drift its way onto the shore. Himself reaching the shore not long after his wounded foe Bard moved and prayed to the Valor that he would accomplish his goal before the dragon fully awoke.

As the boat made landfall Bard ran on the rocky shore and with more prayers for his strength and for the lives of his children he moved to where the arrow stuck out. And just as the dragon opened its eyes Bard used the force of his body to ram the arrow into the beast's chest. The dragon roared and in that moment Bard he it would finally be over.

The beast struggled but Bard hung on for dear life and even as the arrow cut wounds into his hands and blood spurt from the wound he held on. Even as he was tossed to and fro he held on with a ferocity he never knew he had. And finally the dragon began to still and his feet once again his ground.

And it was then in that moment that Smaug's head moved weakly and his great yellow slitted eyes met those of Bard the Bowman, descendent of Girion. And it was then the beast chuckled darkly even as the life left his eyes.

"Why do you laugh beast? You time is at its end?" Bard demanded furiously.

"You do not know do you?" The dragon weakly taunted.

"Know what? What do you mean?"

The dragon continued to chuckle and ignored his angry inquistion as with its last breath it muttered, "I always did wonder what would happen if this day were ever to come. You have proved yourself worthy. And as you bathe in my blood I wish you luck Dragonslayer. Now we are kin. My blood flows into your own. And now your line is mine as well. Too bad I will not live to see what comes next."

And as the eyes of the dragon closed Bard was haunted by the words of Smaug the defiler and felt at once the blood that dranched his clothes. The blood that pooled at his feet and that had enetered the cuts in his hands. The blood that had flown into his eyes as the dragon moved. The blood that had entered his mouth in the struggle.

And it was then Bard yanked at the arrow and was shocked as it left the chest of the dragon without any struggle at all. And in that moment he looked down as his hands and what he saw chilled him to his bones even as a heat began to burn in his belly and blood.

The veins began to glow red and his skin seemed to dance like flame.

*****AN: I imagine Bard's skin would look like those equipped with Extremis in Iron Man *******


	2. Chapter 2

After the slaying of the beast Bard does his best to ignore the wide berth people have taken to giving him or the bruning of his bones and the heat that rises like steam and smoke in his blood. After the dragon took in its last breath he dove in the lake careful to wash away any hint of the blood. Now he was not the most learned or wise man but Bard knew enough to know that something in him had changed. But he also knew if others were to discover this it would put both himself and his family at risk. Afterall the dragon had said it would affect both himself and all of those in his line.

So Bard did what he did best and began to concetrate on the needs of those around him. But above all the protection and safetly of his family of paramount. As he organized the townspeople and dealt with the sniveling Master one goal loomed in his mind. Once everyhting was ready Bard would be making his way to Erebor to collect on the promises made by Torin Oakenshield. And if the dwarf did not deliver Bard the Bowman would tear down the gate stone by stone, take what was needed for his people to survive and rebeuild, and cut down anyone or anything who stood in his way.

But while he may not notice how he has changed the others around him have. While Bard the Bowman was always someone who would look after himself and was filled with grit ever since the fall of Smaug something has changed about his. While before it was more suble now there is something firece about him. Something burning and hot and powerful. It is not angry but more protective and assured more than anything.

The fire burning within him lets the dwarves still with their little party know that even if he has to rip Erebor apart he will do what needs to be done in order to ensure that his children and people make it through the winter. While before the people of the laketown would have followed him warily now they follow without hesitation. As he walks among the camp with straight back, strong gait, and fierce eyes even those that were loyal to the Master grudgingly admit he is the kind of man they would follow to the death.

Yes, they achieve a kind of peace for those few days as Bard prepares for the arrival of the elves and a wizard and to confront the so called King Under the Mountain who nearly destroyed all he holds dear. But just as everything in his life everything changes when just as Gandalf and Thranduil arrive a pack of wargs and orcs decide to try and attack his people.

During the fray his children are by the elf Tauriel and the dwarves. Safe or so he thinks. As he shoots his arrows and fightw with the sword given to him by a guard Bard hears a scream and sees his eldest, Sigrid, being dragged away by a fearsome orc and something within in roars to life.

Anger, fear, desperation, and rage. A fire begins to hum in his mind and he feels the burn and the rush and suddently as if on instinct he is moving faster than he should be able to. Anything that comes between himself and his daughter is destroyed and treated as the enemy.

Within moments that seem like an eternity he is beside his daughter and with a yell he engages the orc. The orc stand taller than him by a foot and is coated with thick armor. But as their swords clash something begins to enter the eyes of his enemy. Yet Bard ignores this as he fights for his child and home.

What he does not see and what everyone else around him sees in the glowing veins and eyes that spark like fire with the yellow of a dragon. They see the sword in his hand begin to steam and burn and they see him knock away the sword of his enemy and cut off the head of the orc. They see the embers and burns left on the neck as if the sword was as hot as a forge.

They see the man throw down his sword and gather his daughter in his arms. They see all of his exposed skin glowing and they see that of his daughter respond in kind. They see all of this and they see those firece dragon eyes eye the rest of the orcs in the clearing. They see him usher his daughter to safety and they see him pick up his sword and continue to fight.

Thranduil enters the clearing expecting to be welcomed at the sight of a massacre. Instead what he see chills him to the bone. He sees a man fighting and slaying orcs to and fro, left and right. He sees his skin burn and his eyes spark. He sees something he has not seen in almost six thosuand years. He sees something that make his cheek burn and his heart stutter with something that he refuses to acknowledge as fear.

He sees the slayer ofa dragon. He sees a Man heir to the throne of Dale and of Girion. He sees a dragonkin.


	3. Chapter 3

As they descend upon the gates of Erebor, their motly crew of elves, dwarves, Men, and a wizard Bard looks down at his hands and fists them shut tight at his side. Even now he can feel the fire and burn within them aching for him to do something. Ever since the elven king of Mirkwood arrived with his forces and the wizard shortly after bard has been on edge.

After the battle had ended he had look at the king, Thranduil Tauriel had called him, and he had known he too had been touched by fire and a dragon's wing. It had only been when he was face to face with the elf had and when he had looked closely it had happened.

When his gaze was drawn to the left side of his face it seemed as if the skin had shifted and faded away to reveal a gaping hole with charded edges and unhealed wounds. Then a moment passed and it faded back to smooth looking skin. But when his eyes met those of the king he knew Thranduil knew he knew. It seemed he was not the only one cursed by a dragon.

Before they had left Thranduil had taken him aside with a smirk with given him and elven blade. It was something that he tried to give back and said all he needed was his bow and his arrows. But the king refused to take it back.

"This was forged by the elves of the First Age. It is known by some as the Globlin cleaver. It came into my possession a short time ago weilded by a false king. You have proven yourself worthy to wield it Bowman. We shall see soon enough if you feats shall grant it some other name."

Bard weaily took it and was about to walk away when the king spoke to him once more this time in a cold and chilling tone, "Have you ever heard the warnings Bowman?"

"Warnings of what King?"

"There is an old northern rhythme that comes to mind. "Beward the dragon with its scales of iron and death. Beware those touched by its blood and fire. For they become kin which is less than kind. It surely were be better if they were dead." And with that Bard walked away as fast as he could to say goodbye to his children before they descended upon the mountain.

Something had happened and was wrong with him. And after this was all over he would find out what it was.

And now here he was with the gates in front of him with the arrogant dwarf yelling down at him telling him that the fate of Laketown and all within it was not his fault. Now he hears the dwarven bastard tell him that if they starve to death and die of exposure it is not his concern. And with those words something snaps in Bard. Something begins to burn in his mind and instead of pushing it down like he has before he slips in his angers and it races through him instead. And it is then he hears it. The voice in his mind. The voice of the dragon he had killed just two days past.

_Bowman; _it whispers soft and cunning_. Do no fight me. I mean you no harm. Instead let me help you. You can sense it cant you. The gold and the jewels that will help keep your people alive and rebuild what you have lost. It is barely within your grasp. Yet the dwarf tries to keep it from you and our kin. He thinks he is safe in his mountain behind these gates. He thinks not to be afraid of us. Come now we will show the King Under The Mountain something to be afraid of. _

It is then Bard realizes that all are staring at him and then he feels it. And when he looks down at his hands he sees why they stare. His hands are bruning and glowing and red and hot. He feels it; the instinct to walk towards the gate in front of him. And once he reaches it he feels the anger and the hatred and the guilt that he could not save more; protect his children like he should. It is then the voice speaks once more.

_Stone and rock and metal are nothing for our fire. We will show him fear._

Bard raises his fist and it is then the glow instefisies and he puts both of his hands spread against the heavy gates. He hears the laughter of Thorin and the yells of nothing will get through the gates. For they are dwarven made he says. They will not be broken by a mere man.

The fire spreads and the brun intensifies and it is then that Bard yells and it is then that he can see and feel the metal melting beneath his hand. And smoke begins to rise and as his anger and fury build he pushes foreward. Foreward until his hands go right through the gate until his shoulder meets the metal. It is then his hand breaks through and meets air on the other side. Once this happens he withdraws his arms and staggers back almost out of breath and suddenly out of energy. the voice speaks once more.

_That is enough for now. We have made our point. You will go back to the camp now and rest. The fire is only a spark, a mere ember. You must rest. And come dawn, we will show Oakenshield what a wildfire of the Kin can truly do. _

And as he turns to go back to his forces the voice speaks once more_. Look up do you see. We have shown him fear. And now we will show him the price he must pay for denying us what is ours. We will protect what is ours. And all who get in out way will burn._

Sure enough as Bard looks up he sees the dwarves lining the top of the gate above. He sees their eyes and smells their shock. Most of all as he looks up he smells their fear_. _


End file.
